


Get You

by NepentheERA



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Adorable, Cunnilingus, Developing Relationship, Exploration, F/M, Fluff, Foreplay, Missionary, Porn Without Plot, Verbal Sex, blowjob, bunnyribbit, career worries, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25915339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NepentheERA/pseuds/NepentheERA
Summary: Lúcio and D.Va are perfect for each other. Neither one of them denies this, but Lúcio decides he must make a hard decision for the sake of their livelihoods. D.Va calls him out on it and proves him wrong. In return, he tries to show her some appreciation, but winds up in a situation where they both decide to slow down and explore one another.Two separately-written oneshots combined into one fic.
Relationships: Lúcio Correia dos Santos/Hana "D.Va" Song
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. Get You

“D.va in the flesh; whoo! Can I get your autograph?!”

“Only if I can get yours too! I love your new album!”

That was how the whole thing started: a foregoing of celebrity manners in favor of older, geekier habits before Lúcio and D.Va were known. It was odd how autograph requests resonated as routine and negligible, and they should’ve been even more so in Hollywood, but somehow being asked for a scribble by someone they were still fascinated and inspired by was exciting, flattering.

They seemed to be grouped up on missions often after that. Whether it was coincidence or a deliberate ploy by Winston, they never questioned (although it was more fun to entertain Winston.) Lúcio got an appreciated workout that repelled the cold by following her MEKA’s flanks across the frozen bay of Volskaya’s waterfront Omnic factories. When a reconnaissance mission on the ever-troublesome Junkers turned sour, D.va experienced a monumental relief when Lúcio peeled to speed her out of the way of the burst fire that destroyed her machine.

That synergy flowed into their downtime. Neither was on tour at the moment, and they staved off the loneliness that accompanied stardom by burying themselves in their computers together. She’d learned how to set up a basic electronic beat within Lúcio’s program, and in return his legendary optimism was tested on the bullet hell titles that D.va- who’d long since allowed herself to be called “Hana” by him- used to keep her reflexes in shape. Despite being vocal and gestural over getting crushed within minutes, he never cursed like she did, which added to the enigma.

Curious chatter soon gave away to comfortable prodding. If Lúcio outwitted her in a debate about who would get the last of the leftovers he cooked:

“That’s why Argentina’s up by two.”

And she’d have to run. If in turn she was too judgemental about his acceptable performance on one of his own games:

“Why don’t you get your box office numbers up before you come at me?”

He’d have to run as well. And whenever they got tired of fighting and their minds became soft and weary from the business of bumming, social media would be there to lull them into a lazy sleep across the bed or on the floor. Hours passed like that, then a couple of days, only interrupted by the necessary bathroom or fridge run, until it was time to either board a plane or one of them could figure out how to sneak into a good show without creating a ruckus.

It turned out they had another commonality: Hana was young and tomboyish enough that their being together was a new experience, another check mark on the list of life to experience and reminisce about. Lúcio never had the time or money to be consumed with anyone in this way beyond the short-term thrill of the chase, and once he got the time and money it’d all been swallowed up by his leadership efforts and touring. The longer this went on the more he fumbled under the expectations of an older guy: giving hesitant pecks and missing the timing a little bit, buying things he remembered she said she wanted a week ago without checking if she'd acquired them herself first, trying his best to not rush things and make her uncomfortable. She didn't judge; it just made him cuter. She returned every single bit of affection, confident and honest, easing him in. And it frightened him.

She was a sharp mind with a padded military and e-sports career that could be jeopardized by aiding his vigilantism against the Vishkar Corporation. He’d been called a “street ruffian” by one of their best not long ago, and while he took it as a badge of honor for Hana it was a liability. Beyond her livelihood would her parents, her people, really approve of seeing her hooked up with a rabblerouser of his complexion? He wasn’t one for playing to others’ expectations. But she could do better. She deserved better. So for days he’d been pushing it off, hiding the correspondence, smiling at her through the concern for his neighborhood's welfare. She'd try to press it. He'd tell her it wasn't anything to concern herself with.

An evening walking by Winston's quarters revealed to Hana that the ape was more worthy of the divulgence. Vishkar’s projects were encroaching back on the favelas too close for comfort; he wanted three days’ reprieve, which in turn needn't any formal permission. Winston followed up with asking if he was trying to lead an actual mission, and if he wanted to take anyone.

“Nah. Not that bad yet. ‘Sides, this is my fight.”

Winston nodded at the heads-up but was told not to tell Hana the specifics if asked. He twisted a lip and tapped a finger on the desk. Dealing with Tracer allowed him a keenness about these kinds of things, but ultimately it wasn't his business so he agreed with an apathetic shrug. But Lúcio had just missed his moment, because the situation abroad had deteriorated to the point of shortness and absent-mindedness with Hana. Compounding upon it all was that several agents had left in the meantime, and Winston wouldn't appreciate him reneging on the one-man show.

That night Hana found him standing and occupied at the side of the bed. The black rolling suitcase splayed open was half full of clothes, the other half in the midst of being folded.

“Winston?”

“Nah!” He grinned, “Just...need to go. Only for a coupla days.”

“Kind of overdoing it there, huh?” She nodded at the bag.

“Hmm? Well, you know, it _shouldn’t_ be for too long, but you never know what’s gonna happen in this crazy world.”

“I’d like to try.”

He looked up to see her hanging her head and pulling the ends of her auburn hair in what seemed like a frustrated disappointment. He straightened up and furrowed his brow.

“‘Ey hey, Hana.” He juked around the corner of the bed and lifted her chin when he got to her, but she backed away with a flourish of both hands.

“I don’t get it.”

“...Get what?”

“Why you're hiding from me.”

“Winston probably paired us up because he didn’t want you with someone like Jesse.”

“Forget Winston. He isn’t telling us where we’re going right now—”

“Where _I’m_ going.”

“Vishkar’s prepared for whatever you’re planning—”

“How do you—”

“Seriously?!” She threw her hands up, ”I heard you talking with Winston. I even heard you ask Efi and Orisa for help too. I'm better for this job, and you _know_ it. I'm not stupid…and I never _asked you_ for career advice.”

He scoffed and cocked his head back.

“I’m not gonna be the one to ruin a good thing for you.”

“Sure seems like you’re trying.”

“ _Hana—_ ”

“You don’t think everybody knows already? The way we treat each other, talk to each other...the way I act when I’m with you, you with me. Everyone’s seen it, Lu.”

He leaned his head back.

“I'm not—… That’s not what I’m getting at.”

He backed away when she stepped to him. He had to look up to meet her eyes, but lowered his gaze as her arms went around his neck. He returned the favor around her waist, and their foreheads touched.

“I’ve already decided that there’s nothing that’s gonna stand in the way of this...so you might as well get used to it.”

“You’re _stubborn._ ”

“And you aren’t?”

Lúcio chuckled at the fact that he didn’t have a retort for that, nor when she put soft lips to his own. It was a slow, mouthy display, a timid make-out that he expected to come to a crawl and coax them apart, where she would end on some declarative statement and he’d be left reeling with guilt over the intent to still deny her accompaniment. But he grunted and raised a brow when she pressed into him harder. He didn’t really fight it, reciprocating the intensity while moving backwards to sit down on the bed.

This was going to further complicate the whole issue, and he knew that she knew it. She went for the crook of his neck- cheeky- and the only response he could muster was to send his hands up the back of her shirt to pull her down on his lap before they roamed down to her hips. He’d been around. If it weren’t for his selflessness during the rebellion it would’ve been just presumed of him, maybe even dogged his career. To go this far with Hana could have the same consequences, but...she was a good kisser for someone of her experience, or at least an insistent one. He pulled off her shirt before she got to his and leaned backwards into the suitcase’s zippered edge, the whole of which he shoved away in one motion.

Hana returned to his lips and grabbed clumps of dreads as he fondled her. Whatever protest was in him had wisped away. Maybe that was a bad sign for the long haul. Was he easy? Well, if he was, she’d try her best to make this last, to be the dreamy thread in the back of his mind tugging him back to her every second he was over in Brazil. She hitched when her bra dropped away before frowning. She couldn’t let him outpace her.

Lúcio lifted his head back when she went to his neck again and began to drift away into his own zone of concentration. The area she nipped and kissed was an admitted weakness, and he let her exploit it until his hands moved to her back, then further downwards, where his hips started rolling slow and firm after he grabbed tight and held on.

Hana moaned at his intention and the sultry movement, but wasn't that a little fast? But what did she know about any of this? Still, he was enjoying it, but it wasn’t enough. Not for her. She pushed up, running her hands down his toned chest and stomach before she descended between his knees and started on the burgeoning button of his jean shorts.

That was clear, and Lúcio leaned up on an elbow. Had she done this before? Probably not…. So why? Why not have him lead at least? Why _wasn’t_ he taking the reins?

He opened his mouth to a stutter before biting his lip and looking to the side. Had she seen him in the moment he would’ve been as red as her whiskers. He could assert himself against a multinational totalitarian conglomerate, but here he couldn’t even hurry her along. He should’ve just cut the whole thing off with a “no” and left for the airport minutes earlier, to just lay down the line, but the thought of returning to a cold dorm with nothing but the bunny plush pillows she’d gifted him would be unfathomable.

So he tensed his hips when she pulled his grey briefs down between the open zipper. He was half hard and twitching a little bit, and lifted a knee upon being grabbed. He fell and turned away when she started pumping. It was nice insofar as he was being touched by someone else for the first time in awhile, but there could’ve been a little less friction, so he mustered up a mumbled request from the depths of his nervous stomach.

“Can you spit a little bit?…”

A wad of saliva seeped onto the tip before he could end the question. Okay, maybe he’d jumped the gun a bit.

He cradled the back of his head and let instinct inside, accepting the back and forth until he once again forgot the whole debacle and faded back into the glow of euphoria. He thrusted once, a few times to meet her fist, then stopped. He was a sensitive guy, but he didn’t want her to know that. Not now anyways. She held him in place and nuzzled her nose against his groin which got him more excited. She was really going there. He readjusted himself, one hand clenching the comforter while the other, shaky and tenuous, ran down to pet her bangs.

“Not too much….”

That may have come across as an implication rather than a warning because she didn’t answer before engulfing him about a third of the way. Her swiftness got a brief grunt out of him, but he kept himself on the threshold of consciousness to prevent from choking her. He snatched enough oxygen to recover more control and looked towards the Hero of My Storm poster on the wall, appreciating the economical simplicity of the destroyed skyscraper, the suggestion within Thespian’s detailed metallic frame, the mild wrinkles in the paper frosted with reflected light—

“Ahh!” Pain raked all the way down. Teeth.

He pursed his lips and spasmed. _What in the world?_ She seemed to take that as a compliment, because she did it again. He sent his head back into the mattress, and on the third time he had to scruff her. He prayed she hadn’t peeled any skin off.

“Mm—…. Are you close already?”

He caught his breath and looked at her, eyes half closed, brow clenched in a rhetorical look, before he started snickering.

Oh, she was hopeless. Totally clueless about this whole mess. The bravado, the dominance. Meaningless. And he thought back to his shy kisses, the little gifts, the instigating pokes and prods and silly jokes, all to make palatable the idea of them being together, and how ignorant he’d been to the fact that she’d already accepted him from day one. The difference between them however was that she was oblivious in her assumptions altogether, and he couldn’t help but continue giggling at her audacity.

It was the last response Hana was expecting. She raised up higher on her knees with a frown, watching as he covered his face to muffle the laughs. When she huffed and tapped his thighs with her fists in a tantrum, he sat up and gripped himself.

“Alright, alright! Ahhh. Here, bun. Grab right here.” She did so where his hand had been, leaving only his tip and an inch exposed, “That’s enough...and don’t _bite it_. Jeez.”

He nodded and enjoyed the ministrations, keeping partial hold to restrict her distance. He’d push in and out a little when her tongue went underneath, and when she realised she could toy with him like that his breath began to speed up and catch. She had to have been embarrassed; her whiskers were almost invisible right now. A part of him wanted to stop and comfort her, another wanted to ignore the mistake, like she always did. The latter inclination won out since it’d be a funny story to recall as retribution for almost degloving him.

When he started to get erratic he stopped her. He got her up again and started on her neck to see how she liked it while his hands roamed and gripped and squeezed at flesh. She pulled him in before finding herself turned onto her back right where he’d been laying. He kissed and nipped at her with confidence and got hugged once more. She forgot she had to give him space to work, but he had enough room to snake a hand down her own pants.

Never again did he think that he could enjoy the awkwardness of a new lover, but it was flattering on her. All of the professional bells and whistles sloughed away to reveal underneath a tangible person determined to insist that she was right about this.... Rio must’ve been that way for her too. The big, frustrating, heartbreaking mores of home and his central place in that whirlwind were just trivial distractions to the matter of them.

He smiled when he pulled everything down to her ankles and crawled backwards off the bed. With a hungry flick of his eyebrows he guided his tongue in slow. He kept watch over her and noticed she was tense, trying to keep her hands in control, although she was no less enjoying it by the stacatto’d moans she gave him. It was cute. But he wanted to make it better, to make it worth her while for her efforts. He lifted his head to rest on her groin with a dozy smile.

“Yo, relax—”

He was grabbed at the hairline and pushed back down. He acknowledged the check with a wave and obliged by returning his tongue inside. He was pulled in, slight lances of pain on his scalp. He had to grab her wrist when he rose up to demonstrate how oral was to really be done. No teeth. Imagine his shock and awe when she enjoyed it, when she locked him in by her crossed legs, thrusting back against his own fervor and humming, arching her back when he plunged in again.

When her pitch rose way too far for the sake of privacy he stopped and slipped from underneath her deflating legs. After she phased back into awareness he was right there hovering nose to nose, smiling in that happy-go-lucky manner that enraptured her back in Hollywood. He had such big, innocent, wonderful eyes; it was sickening after a certain point.

“You wanna keep going?” he turned his head.

“Now you're asking me that?”

“Haha, _excuse me_ then.’’

She helped herself be pulled up further into bed by bracing her feet against the edge. While she freed one leg he reached into the nightstand drawer for a condom. He hunched over with a gasp; she grabbed him and tugged. God, she was such an imp. He rolled his eyes and let her have a few seconds of fun before rising onto his knees, lowering his clothing, and preparing himself in full view. She'd need to know how this worked too.

He couldn't take charge of the inevitability. He knew there might be pain and the possibility that she was already over the hill. He had to relinquish control again, to trust that she was prepared for that chance, and yet still willing to let him lead. He entered and they held their breath together. No resistance so far, so he submerged himself a little more.

“Tell me when....”

She grabbed onto the divots of his sides when the base was an inch away from her groin. It was enough. He descended onto both elbows, sheltering her while giving himself prime access to her lips and hair to distract from the pull out and push in.

Hana acted tough for the sake of her credibility and her sanity out over the Korean waters combating a cyclically-mutating nightmare. That's why she'd been pulling on and biting him, fighting on through the mistakes. But all of it had fallen away as she failed to reconcile the sensations as anything other than euphoric and pushed a leg up farther. That a person of her caliber would subject herself to this, to throw away the guarded coping mechanisms she relied on for years to try and prove anything to a troublemaker like him, reduced him to foolishness. He wanted to make up for it, those days he spent dodging and deflecting, lying to her that he didn’t need her. That never had to be. Everything else went out of mind.

“C’mon Lu....”

He felt the same way and sped up, not too much, but enough to get off a groan between the both of them. He slipped his hands around her back; she had his shoulders. Every now and again they'd go back to kissing wherein the pace would slow but go harder. It drove him crazy, the desperation in the grind, and he knew he had to hurry her along in response. When he found the chance he leaned up and reached down to circle his thumb against her. She dug her fingers back down into his braids. He listened to her warm breath huffing into the air, the stuttered moans, the growls, somewhat aware he was doing the same. She threw her legs around him, forcing him back into that incredible grind, and he had to slow himself and breathe deep and fast to stave it off. He never stopped moving however, and out of nowhere she clenched down on him and whined out. He stopped breathing and hurried up a little bit, pressing and rolling his hips hard against the pulsating sensation. Hana then learned something else about him.

“Oh fuck—!”

There was a way to get him to curse.

He bearhugged her, panting and whimpering through an open mouth. She reached around his back, committing to memory the feel of his contracting muscles. The flow tempered, but the heightened sensitivity and continued envelopment had him over the moon as if he were still going. They made out recklessly. He took full advantage of every second of it, pushing on to the border of pain, delighting when she sunk her nails in, and hanging there until he lost feeling, then energy….

When was the last time he'd been overwhelmed like that?... In fact, had that ever happened before?... No, not like this, not where afterwards he was engrossed in the warm, comfortable sentiment that perhaps he really was deserving of someone like her…. Who would’ve thought?

He settled on top of her, their abdomens meeting for air. In time he went quiet and snuggled his head beside hers with a sigh, humming as she rubbed his scalp.

“You know, you're adorable when you whimper like that, Lu.”

He opened his eyes with a concentrating glare before pushing up.

“... _Adorable?_ ”

After all of that, _that_ was the reigning adjective of the whole business?! He blushed and glanced away, and she giggled and poked his nose, just like old times.

He rose up on his knees, allowing her to sit up face to face. He blinked slow, staring at her and smirking as if drunk. She leaned in closer with a taut smile brimming with smugness. He rolled his eyes, and when she lifted her nose and approached further he couldn’t just not acknowledge it, smacking his teeth and grinning back.

“Don't you dare start thinkin’ this'll work every time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter was the first piece of fanfiction I'd written in well over a decade. My rust and timidity shows, but I think the general gist of the story was good enough to publish. I hope you enjoyed it, and that the second chapter is even better!


	2. Switch

A series of quiet Portuguese commercials played on the mounted widescreen, underscored by the muffled hiss of a shower behind closed doors. Hana had already taken hers and sat on the far edge of the king-sized bed undoing her hair. A cozy warmth was present as heat ebbed both from her skin and the faded afternoon. Blackout shades had been drawn to further regulate the temperature; the television and a lamp next to the opposite side of the bed added a sleepy dimness to the bedroom.

Hana had been successful in convincing Lúcio to let her help with stalling the Vishkar Corporation’s inroads in urban development. An enticing hustle about a middle-class standard of living had made way for totalitarianism in his neighborhood a few years ago, and his flashfire revolution hadn’t been a complete deterrent for them. Fighting Vishkar was dangerous and sometimes demeaning work, work he felt wouldn’t be appropriate for someone of Hana’s idol status to engage in. He got lit into by her- and experienced something else- and a couple days later both were tearing up the streets to thwart an astroturfing protest that had brewed over into an intentional maelstrom.

She got off easy, having been in her MEKA the majority of the incident. Lúcio had the pleasure of being in his skates which, while second nature, couldn’t match her MEKA’s infinite stamina. Inflammation seized at his legs, abdomen, and right arm all day, only faltering in its grip at the presence of hot water. He’d been in the bathroom for almost half an hour stretching out, but then began drifting off. When Hana yelled asking if he was still alive he snapped to attention, finished, and sauntered out in nothing but navy boxer briefs and a handful of clothes. A pleasant musk of shower steam and a woody body wash wafted inside. Her heart jumped. A craving skimmed her mind, and she hummed.

He dropped the garments and rolled onto the bed with a loud sigh. He rubbed at his taut diaphragm before the hand became pressed under hers.

“I should’ve let you lead.”

“Obviously. It’s about time you realized that,” she pressed a kiss against his bristly jawline before nestling against him.

A ping of adrenaline went off in his stomach. He glanced down as she nuzzled her face in the crook of his neck and raised the hand up his chest, then chuckled.

“Hey now, I don’t mean that literally."

"Oh really?"

"Don't act like you're head of household just yet," he hugged her shoulder and traced his other hand along her pink cheek, only to poke her nose, "I let you come with me."

"Hm! You didn't let me do anything.”

"Then why'd you ask me about it?"

She paused and looked off with a squinting glare. _Dammit._

"I don't remember that. I told you how we’d get it done."

"You mean with that awful blowjob?"

"That was after."

He sputtered and leaned his head back to chirp in laughter. She bit her lip but a smile poked through.

"At least you admit it!"

"Hangmun."

"Oi, oi. Remember what else you said,” he laid his chin on top of her head and closed his eyes, “I'm just as stubborn as you are."

She couldn’t argue with that. It was the first hard lesson she had to learn in committing to him. But it hadn’t stunted her curiosity. Her sight darted along his breathing frame. His chest and stomach were just defined enough to exhibit the labors of exercise without being so grossly shredded. His shoulders were hefty, arms built like tree branches. His legs were like pillars- sturdy and thick, with the deepest rivulets of muscle definition on his thighs. She liked it, all of it. And then, she wondered: what did he like?

Lúcio’s eyes opened, and an inquisitive grunt left him. She was tracing her fingertips up and down his abs slow, contacting his skin just enough to leave a tickle. A line of heat ran a little further down than anticipated. He shifted laterally towards her, his chin leaving its perch to press his forehead against hers, lips close enough now to exchange humid breaths. Fingers flowed back into her hair as he looked at her, half-awake and sporting a dumb smirk.

It was a weird angle now; she had to bend her wrist back to continue the treatment on his front. Her nails scritched and he shifted against her, or was it a flinch? It seemed he liked it. Maybe? She swallowed and looked into his gaze. He was there, but not all the way, and at once she knew she’d been pushy. She forgot he'd been fighting in the heat all day.

His face retreated. She was looking somewhere else.

“What?”

“Nothing, you goof,” she pawed his face away from her own, “It’s late. I’m tired, you’re definitely tired.”

“Yeah, but...we can still be close.”

He withdrew his hand from her hair and settled it around her waist, pulling on her a little bit. A prod with his foot was enough to entangle her leg with his. There they remained, him massaging her hip under her shirt while she began to rub his neck and pet his dreaded scalp until, for a moment, Lúcio knew he was sleeping and allowed himself to sink into the euphoria of rest. The acceptance stifled the embarrassment of not having the energy on demand, but perhaps it would be awash in the morning. She was still next to him.

Frantic narration of a car commercial cut through the black of sleep. Lúcio’s mind booted back up and he stirred. Every muscle wound up as he inhaled deeply through his nose, the filmy scent of cotton and perspiration filling him, then relaxed with a big sigh. He cleared his throat at the stale taste of his own breath before noticing he'd somehow made his way under the covers with Hana. Her leg was still around his. It brought him back.

It was relieving that she’d been the one to pump the brakes. It required her to both read him, and to be okay with it. Most others didn’t treat him that way, because they didn’t know how to. He never frowned, never faltered. He couldn’t; Brazil needed someone who didn’t shirk in the face of adversity. Being a beacon of hope as it were became a habit he didn’t know how to turn off. But to Hana, an inspirational figure in her own right, that was all a necessary spectacle, no more the totality of him than her memetic running gags on stream. She would always let him rest, or she would make a hail mary move that somehow felt just right. He still insisted that their first time shouldn’t have worked out, shouldn’t have been so wonderful with how painful she made things, but here she was, snuggled up next to him in his bedroom down in Rio. He hadn’t shown his appreciation for her dedication. His exhaustion last night hadn’t helped.

But he wasn’t all that tired anymore. He found her hand back on his stomach, and her face in the crook of his neck. He arched his back to stretch again. A spark of sensation fired on the top of his cock. He hitched, then lowered himself down with the tiniest flex of his hips. He was burgeoning just enough for his underwear to be quite palpable. In hindsight it was such a banal revelation he almost rolled his eyes, until Hana leaned against him for leverage while groaning. She was getting up. Lúcio's breath clenched. She was here, and he was hot. And then, he wondered: would she appreciate a hail mary too?

A weight laid against Hana's neck. The television played something low and serious. She was warm enough to be uncomfortable and, opening her eyes to discard the covers she felt a kiss underneath her chin.

"Heeeey Hana," he kissed her again, "Bom dia."

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he settled across her frame like a cat. His elbows on either side of her supported his weight, and he drummed a little beat on the mattress. This was all too familiar.

"You're actually up before me."

"Got a great night's sleep. First one in awhile too."

"Better?"

She rubbed his scalp before he leaned into her and ran little pecks along her collarbone and throat. She gasped and dug into one of his shoulders.

"What do you think?"

She tried to answer throughout the affection, a task as futile as dodging rain. She wouldn't complain. Even if he hadn't cared for the massage she at least planted the idea somewhere in his carnal subconscious. She leaned up to reciprocate his excitement and was rewarded with the insistence of his tongue. She let him in, and he growled while slinking forward to straddle her. Her eyes fell, and when she was done analyzing his bulge she glanced back to see him hovering inches away.

"You wanna keep going?"

She nodded downwards, "You would've known by now if I didn't."

He sputtered and shook his head before combing through her tangled hair.

"Then just relax."

She had no time to do that before his other hand went up her shirt and fondled a breast. He pulled up her shirt and lowered himself to gently suck on the bulbous peak of the other. She arched into him, pressing his cock. His remaining hand yanked down the band on his underwear to free himself, and he settled back down with a relieved sigh.

Hana had enough consciousness to acknowledge the warm firmness conforming on her groin. She wasn’t sure how long their first time had been, but it had been a rather straightforward affair. Lúcio didn’t seem like the kind of guy with a short refractory period. Correction: she didn’t know his recovery at all. She didn’t know much of what he found gratifying at all beyond typical stimulation. And right now they had no flights to chase after, no goons to beat up. So, why rush? She grabbed onto the braiding on his scalp.

Lúcio was listening to her, and inevitably feeling her. She was into it, as expected. Back when he DJ’d on the corner and was building his reputation, it put that much more pressure on him to give a good time, as fleeting as those times were. That was the expectation for free-wheeling artists in the midst of reconstruction: his street sense and artistic flair were supposed to manifest into this alluring ability to screw hard before he always had to jump to some other venture. It got the job done well enough. He leaned to the side and reached down her own pants, and as he began to insert a couple of fingers she pulled his hair. His face squenched in a frown, but he continued on.

Hana bucked into him again and moaned. He was trying to push this along again. As he adjusted himself, she pulled harder. He strained and closed his eyes, then relaxed and resumed. She raised a brow and yanked harder, resulting in him seething through his teeth.

_“Hana.”_

It was just like that damn blowjob. He’d never forget it: those razors raking down his length, him snatching her own hair in a panic. It was a wonder he’d been able to finish at all. Was she legit into pain or was he giving off weird signals? He slipped his fingers up farther and began to pump a little bit to relax her. But at the next tug he would’ve sworn the braiding had been damaged.

“Hana!”

A chance. His neck would receive not a trace or a kiss, or even a bite, but a swift clothesline by her forearm. He froze. He was in awe, offended even, which left him even more open to be flipped over. His eyes bugged, and he withdrew his arms like a puppy’s.

“Wha—!”

Hana grinned, showing those razors, and he shrunk back into the pillows.

“I’m guessing that hurt you,” she chuckled.

“You think?! I don’t like that!”

“Just...on top of your head?”

“Whaddayou mean?”

“Like, would it be fine if I pulled closer to the ends?”

His lips moved to answer, but no words left. No one had ever asked him such a thing. He’d never seen the need for anyone to ask him nor would’ve given anyone the chance. He was the one who took charge. Always. Heat swelled in his face, and he glanced off somewhere. To even search for any potential answers, much less the act of answering, was weird, but...maybe him finding it weird was sad, the inevitable result of a critical failure somewhere in his youth. He’d had enough sex to have forgotten much of it, and yet here he was oblivious to a softball inquiry. He was caught out. He twiddled and squeezed his fingers, then furrowed his brow.

“I...I, uhm…. Mmph!”

She rested a kiss on his lips. It was slow, and reassuring. When he sighed and melted into it, she pulled away an inch.

“It’s okay, Lu. I’m sorry. I won’t touch your hair anymore. I just.…” she paused.

He turned his head.

“Just what?”

“I want to, you know...fool around? But like, well...you know, figure you out?”

He lifted his head a smidge, then opened his mouth a little.

“Ohhhh, I gotcha. Well…. Alright. But next time, can’t you just say that?”

“Couldn’t you have said you didn’t like your hair being pulled?”

He smacked his teeth and stumbled, a cute little fit which earned him some kisses to his neck. It was a turn-on she discovered the first time. As she continued she began to run up and down the planes of his abdomen again, urging out of him a stifled moan. So he did like it. Hana quickly shifted to sitting behind him; Lúcio let her, but looked back and forth as if she’d teleported there. Once comfortable, she focused on a nipple of his own; he shifted a little bit, raised his brow in analyzation, before she went back to her prior treatment, and then alternated.

A drip of pre-cum seeped out, along with a series of long moans. It wasn’t going to get him off any time soon, but the treatment possessed an addictive comfort all on its own; the way she was wrapped around him, and how she read his reactions and didn’t dare come close to hurting him again. It was as if there was nothing else in the universe worthy of acknowledgement but him. That was definitely egotistical, and indeed there was an anxiety in the expectation to not do anything, but...he would embrace this opportunity, for her. He took a deep sigh and settled against her.

Things began to move towards the poles. Her kissing had moved towards his cheek while her fingers crept ever downward. His cock jerked again. He bit his lip and whined. She hadn’t even touched him yet. How was it the anticipation?

“Han.”

“Do you like this?”

_“Yes,”_ he huffed and held his breath at the creeping sensation dripping down his body.

A jolt hit him. He flinched and whimpered. Kisses stamped the ridge of his ear at the same time she ran over his navel. She blindly brushed against his head in the process which was breaching the sheath halfway now. He recoiled against her and bucked. Hana smiled. _Alright then._ She went in; her kisses became a little firmer and bitey, but not painfully so, and she interspersed a few licks. She dabbled a finger in the dip of his belly, and he further rose to attention. Euphoric pangs shot through him. He arched himself, and got a little louder. When she got cheeky and rubbed his frenulum, he lifted himself and threw his head back.

“Tch— Porra!”

That shout. A wave shuddered down through her core until she felt a brief leak. Another drip fell onto his groin. He rolled away from her and grabbed her wrist, forcing a pant to bring himself back down. She moved to lay beside him.

“Your ears, huh?”

It took a few seconds for him to answer, and he did so without looking at her.

“I guess so. I never…. Hm. Bet you think it’s typical for me, right?”

“It’s adorable. Besides, I liked that too.”

“Hm?”

“When you spoke.”

His cheeks glowed, and his gaze darted from side to side. He remembered: he _had_ shouted, and not in English either. He was always quieter than that, even when cumming. He rubbed his face, and before he could descend into the sinkhole of awkwardness she started pecking him again, and he had to smile at her newfound salve for him.

“It’s hot, Lu…. Please. Keep talking.”

She grabbed onto him. He grit his teeth and pressed his head into the pillow.

“Merda!”

Lúcio didn’t know whether that was reflex or obedience, but he knew it was starting to feel better. He started pumping himself back and forth in her grip, the head moving in and out of the skin. He turned and went to ravishing her with a sloppy make-out while a hand snaked down into her underwear. When she lifted her head to whine at his fingers pistoning, he took his chance at her neck himself. He continued to speak in a breathy grumble, at first in short interjections as she finally began moving her hand against his thrusts.

Hana responded ever more desperate and louder, urging him on to say more. She could pick up a few things, either from prior knowledge or context. But truth be told he could've been speaking Carrollian nonsense. It was all his tone: deep and meditative, as if he were fighting to retain his very sanity. His fingers had an easier time massaging her by the second, and her hand as well; a pleasant squelching accompanied their vocals.

Suddenly Lúcio slipped from her grasp and resumed straddling her. He did nothing but smile, but in a more heartfelt way than usual. Hana raised a brow. Did he have a weird idea?

"What, you goof?"

"I dunno. I've never...felt anything like this before, from anyone and…" he shrugged, "You know."

"Know?"

"I'm just really glad that you're okay with that. With me."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

That said it all, didn't it? A shy chuckle left him, and he leaned down to touch his forehead against hers.

"Obrigado, Hana. Eu te amo...e quero você."

That last bit was as sultry as he could make it as he began to hump her. She gasped and clawed his hips. It wasn't long before she yanked her underwear right off, and he laughed.

"Impaciente?"

During their tease of a grind, Lúcio tried his absolute best to keep talking, to shower her with pet names like "gata" and somehow communicate the undulating satisfaction of the smooth glide, but if nothing else he was only hyping himself up. It was becoming dangerous withholding himself from making entry.

"Não posso—"

Hana noticed him falter and withdraw. She knew why, and his conscientiousness was both commendable, and another weakness. She loved this. She loved that he allowed her to play with him. She wanted to guide him in, to really feel him. He could pull out. They were too close. She grabbed him before he could retreat, hoisting out a hefty glob of precum. He strained and writhed.

"Hana—Ah! Por favor!"

Lúcio started gasping. He had no idea how long he'd last inside. This is not the decision he wanted to address this morning. His eyes clamped shut. She rubbed his head a little against her lips. He made a motion to push inside but wrenched away again.

Hana blinked, then loosened her grip. When he calmed down, he saw that the dresser was open while she was already unwrapping a condom.

"We can try some other time. Alright?"

He blew air and let her dress him up.

"Oh ‘ey, you actually remembered from when I showed you, huh?"

"Give me some credit, Lu!"

"Haha; sorry, but that blowjob was awful.”

"Are you ever gonna forgive me?" she smiled.

"Man, I dunno about that one," he playfully rubbed his goatee.

Once she left room at the tip he began to hoist himself onto his knees, but the attempt to mount her was halted with a foot on his shoulder. She pushed back and stalked into his lap facing him.

"Then let me make it up to you."

She began to make him lie down on his back, but he anchored himself with his hands.

"Not like that," he kissed her, "Let me...."

The pressure between her pussy and the crumpled sheets was good. He started to move, and in time finally slipped inside.

Lúcio would never have thought much of this position otherwise. A lot of times it left his hips sore or hungry for a bit more control. But Hana wasn’t too feisty or extra; her movements were a little inexperienced and lost. Gentle, like he was being rocked to sleep. It kept him enveloped. He shuddered, and his eyes rolled up. He hugged her against him and spoke up.

“Vá mais….”

All the pent-up energy and sensation had remarkably ebbed away for both of them, left in its place a hypnotic, pacifying heat as they remained entangled around and within each other. The act was slow and comfortable, like a good dream. Whenever Lúcio would get antsy and speed up Hana would slow down, and if she seemed a little uncomfortable or approaching her own orgasm he would stop and massage her thighs and back. They both wanted it to last forever, but alas, he was starting to go first, and it didn’t matter how he moved. He grasped at her and buried his head in her shoulder.

“Vou gozar—!”

Hana was right with him, fumbling and snatching him up in her grasp. In a second, everything changed. The pleasure had topped out. Their minds became clear and they tensed up, waiting. Lúcio shivered, then suddenly began bucking and crying out. Hana shook and pressed herself into him as she began to contract around his cock. She winced; he bit her shoulder, trying to quiet himself. Wanting to ride it out she began to move her hips again, sending him into a fit as his sensitivity heightened. Gasping for air didn’t help; he struggled to hold on for her, snarling through his teeth until she finally settled down and let him go.

He fell backwards, catching his breath and writhing. He rubbed his face before shaking his head, trying to bring his sight back into focus.

“Holy….”

She laid on top of him, catching her own breath, and he was quick to take himself out.

“How quaint. Seems I’m not the only one who likes using teeth.”

He looked down to where a considerable bruise was already forming.

“Oh no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” A finger pressed his lips.

“Baegchi. You didn’t do it on purpose...I think. Besides, I don’t mind. That was kinda hot too.”

So she did like pain. He put a pin in it.

“I don’t know how you do it, Han.”

“I have my ways.”

“Yeah, right,” he chuckled.

That wasn’t a bad answer. He’d never been with someone who didn’t just want to screw around with him just to say they did, or because they had expectations he felt obligated to fulfill. Now he had someone to make love to, and he had to scrap almost everything he'd picked up. She was on an even keel with him, which only meant there was no pressure. They could figure things out together as they went along.

The two pet and cuddled each other long enough for the condom to get uncomfortable. He sat up, kissing her briefly before nodding at the bathroom door.

“C’mon, let’s get cleaned up. I know a great place for lunch.”

“Sounds good to me. And, uh...you wanna try again tonight?”

The thought of another round at this moment in time was still physiologically uncomfortable, but nonetheless he managed the excitement to flash his teeth at her in a big smile.

“Sure thing. And hey, I’ll let you lead this time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this!
> 
> Two gifts for making it to the end. First, some translations, for those who simply don't want to put the text into Google Translate. I speak very light Portuguese myself but no Korean, so apologies to any native speakers for any awkwardness. Also, do not use any of this in real life please:
> 
> Korean: Hangmun (Asshole), Baegchi (Idiot)  
> Portuguese: Bom dia (Good morning), Porra (Fuck), Merda (Shit), "Obrigado....Eu te amo...e quero você." ("Thank you....I love you...and I want you."), Impaciente (Impatient), Não posso (I can't), Por favor (Please), Vá mais (Move more), Vou gozar (I'm going to cum)
> 
> And second gift for making it to the end, some NSFW art I drew which was the ultimate inspiration for this chapter, as I never actually meant to sequelize Get You: https://64.media.tumblr.com/5855bde09d9e3d2737402e9d620cf6b1/777f7864ae4928f4-2d/s1280x1920/21b482a98948fad90864149423aca342adaf4791.png


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